Something's Wrong
by tistrust
Summary: Something's wrong with you.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Quick one shot drabble like thing I came up with...umm, I don't know if I want to continue. Reviews would probably help me decide.

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"There's something wrong with you."

Those weren't first time he heard those words from a stranger, but they actually seemed to be more frequent from his best friend. _There's something wrong with you. You're not normal. Did you get dropped when you were a baby? What the hell… _blah, blah, blah.

Well…they all seemed to mean the same thing. Not that Shawn would ever mind. He knew from the beginning that he could never be _normal_. It just seemed so…unrealistic. How could he live his life doing exactly what was expected? Being exactly what everyone else was? Wasn't the whole point of life to be unexpected? To jump at an opportunity and _live._ At least that was what he was lead to believe after many years of careful unpredictability.

It's not like he actually sat down and thought out exactly what would happen to him and all his possible emotions. That just seemed like too much work. One thing was for sure, he never thought of this scenario. Not in a million years would he would have thought that he would get such news. He believed in looking at the bright side and in being an optimist…which kinda meant that he would have never came to such a conclusion.

It had to be something else. It wasn't right, it couldn't be true. Has to be a dream. Just a dream, nothing could hurt him here.

He bit his tongue until he tasted blood. No. No, he was here and the tangy, iron filling his mouth was very real. But he still couldn't accept this. This was so far out of the realm of possibility that it had to be made up.

"Mr. Spencer," the doctor repeated gently, "I don't want to take any risks; we're going to admit you immediately. We set up a CT scan and a PET scan for you in about an hour. When we get those results we can proceed."

Shawn nodded numbly, what else could he do? His brain drew a complete blank. This was too fast, way too fast. The biopsy was last week and he just got the results yesterday. He hadn't thought anything about it; it was probably just an infection he got from trying to do something stupid at some point. Sure, his doctor had told him of the possibility but the chances were so low…

He hadn't come to terms with it yesterday and today was no different. But he was suddenly at the oncologists and they were _admitting _him and they were already talking about surgery. No. It was too fast. It's not possible.

But Gus squeezing his shoulder now and then reminded him that Gus was hearing all this too. His dad's shocked and glazed over eyes more than enough said that something was wrong. His mother was squeezing all the blood from his hand, her jaw set hard against every word.

He didn't even have enough time to drink his pineapple smoothie today. How was he supposed to tell Juliet? How was he going to go to the beach tomorrow with Gus to bury fake treasure? On Saturday he was supposed to go to Lassie's and help rebuild the bird house he broke. Next week, he was supposed to take Juliet ice skating.

Now he wasn't doing any of that.

He was going to get scans and surgery. That didn't seem as fun.

His mom squeezed his hand harder making Shawn realize that they were moving out of the room. Everyone filed out of the room and when it came to Shawn, the doctor motioned towards a wheelchair with a gentle smile.

He could walk. He was going to say so but he couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat and before he knew it his dad had guided him down to the chair and they were off.


	2. One Step Closer to the Edge

AN: I considered turning this into a story but I decided that I like the one shot thing and then I decided that I couldn't just leave it at the beginning so its turned into a kind of a snap-shot kind of thing. Enjoy! There's a few more to come.

Inspired by Linkin Park "One Step Closer"

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Shawn was angry. When he got right down to it, he was constantly angry. A low burning flame that never went away because that was all he had left. He let the fear wash over him because the terror never quite went away and it froze him. Stopped him from breathing. Making chilling stabs through his heart and into his soul and only anger – hot, burning, lava like anger- could ever pull him away from that freezing death.

He gritted his teeth and smiled that smile of his. The one he gave all the nurses and doctors, the one that made most people believe that he was alright. But everything was constantly bubbling on the surface, waiting to explode. And sometimes he wondered why everyone couldn't see right through him. See that he was scared shitless and that all he wanted to do was cry and scream.

He wanted to give up. Wave the white flag. The thought crossed his mind, but if he had ever mentioned this thought to anyone else they would absolutely force him to talk to a shrink. And he didn't want that. He didn't have anything against shrinks, but when your mother is one…it tends makes things a little difficult.

He wanted them to stop. He wanted them to be real. To stop pretending that the impending threat of death wasn't there, that it wasn't even an option. Of course it was an option! It had been since he was born. He wanted to them to give him space, let him breathe a little.

He wanted…he wanted life to be fair. For it to be just. What had he ever done to deserve any of this? Sure, he had made some bad decisions but his intentions were never wrong and he always came clean to faults. It wasn't fair.

He knew it was childish and immature…but DAMN IT! It was suppose to be fair. Should be fair. But he knew that life didn't work that way.

They kept telling him that he was strong, that he was being brave. He took each word, but he did not take them to heart. In a way it felt like the words were pushing towards some unknown precipice. He knew what bravery meant but he didn't feel brave, he felt like he was just getting by. He was taking each day at a time and when they told him - reminded him - that he was being 'so brave and strong' he felt like they were trying to tell him to remember it all. To fight the whole war when all he could barely do take was one battle at a time.


	3. Swim

AN: Inspired by Jack's Mannequin's "Swim". I recommend that you give it a listen if you've never heard it. The singer had leukemia and it's about his battle.

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He woke up, brushed his teeth, washed his face, ate what he could of breakfast, flipped through some television channels, checked his email, ate some lunch, sent some messages, IMed a few people, made some calls, watched a few reality shows, ate a little bit of dinner, and went to sleep.

Through it all his mom, his dad, or Gus would be there. Anxiously waiting. Silently supportive. Reminiscently animated.

The days blurred together. In one gigantic, blubbering blur. Sometimes he threw up. Sometimes he had such blinding headaches that he had to ask for something to take the edge off. Sometimes people visit. Most of the time…he didn't know what happened. He couldn't discern the monotony anymore, it really did seem like one huge day to him. Time was slow, crawling like snails stuck in honey. But that didn't give an apt description. Time was also lightening fast - here in an instant, gone in a flash.

He couldn't remember everything, not anymore. Things that people told him, he'd forget. Important things, insignificant things…it made no difference. It all mashed together in some galactic war that no one cared about.

'_How many hats, Shawn?'_ Right now, he couldn't answer that question for his life. Not that the question could save his life anyways. He lost his hair a month ago and he knew how many hats, beanies, and handkerchiefs he had. He didn't always wear one, but he almost always had to when he was in the hospital; though the draftiness and coldness seemed to seep in no matter what. He missed his hair.

Bald totally was not a good look on him. It made his face somehow sharper, sicker. It made him hate mirrors. If he wore one of his beanies and he avoided shiny surfaces, he could almost pretend that he was ok. But only for a while. The beanie would always get too hot and grossly sweaty. He had no eyebrows. No beards or stubble (no shaving, but he totally lost that ruggedly handsome look he knew he could pull off on his good days). It just all felt too smooth, unnaturally so. It made him remember that he was sick.

All he could do was hang on. '_Just keep swimming.'_ It was his only choice left.

He understood now. It was crystal clear but at the time he hadn't been able to see it. Couldn't see past the anger and despair. But he couldn't be blamed for that. Hit a guy with his own mortality and things sort of get skewed.

He had thought about it. Seriously thought about it but he couldn't quite picture how it would all go down. He knew that death would mean peace for him. No more pain. No more worries. Just pure nothingness. Eternal blankness.

He didn't know if he believed in heaven or hell. He didn't know if there was an afterlife. He was a pure skeptic, as the reverend had said. And there was nothing in the world he could do to change that. His dad had always taught him to take what he saw, all the facts and details, and come to a conclusion with it. When he looked at religion he couldn't see that conclusion. For some things one just needed faith, and he never had that.

But death wasn't the answer. He had run so many scenarios through his head and though death would mean the end for him, it did not mean the same thing for his friends and family. '_Dying is easy. Living is hard.'_

They were scared for him, scared of losing him, scared of facing their own lives with part of it missing and gone. He didn't want that for them. So he knew he had to fight. He had to win this battle (or literally die trying) because loving someone means living for them.

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First quote is from the show. Second quote is from 'Finding Nemo'. Third quote is from 'House'.

Read and review! :]


	4. Troublemaker

AN: Thank you for all the reviews so far! And sorry that I did not answer them personally, I usually try to do that. :] This is a happy one.

Inspired by "Troublemaker" by Weezer.

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"Ready."

Shawn cracked his neck, the little popping noises making him feel slightly better.

"Set."

Anxiety made his hands itch, he was going to bolt. He was ready. He was set. Come on, come on.

"Go!"

He pushed as fast as he could but he knew it was a losing war. There was no winning from the start but he knew he had to try. The other team outmatched him in speed, agility, manpower… practically everything! Except age.

Shawn sighed as he let his wheelchair drift to a stop at the finish line. Gus stood there with a slightly disappointed look while Shawn smiled sadly back up at him.

"Seriously, Shawn?" Gus demanded.

"Well what did you expect?" Shawn defended, "They were cheating anyways."

Gus mumbled something incoherently and reached into his pocket, he pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to the kid standing next to him.

"Awww…" Shawn beamed, "You placed a bet on me."

"Which you totally made me lost," Gus shot back, "You owe me five dollars."

"I do not." Shawn stood up from the wheelchair grabbed his IV pole, "I didn't tell you to bet your lunch money on a rigged race."

"We didn' rig it!" the little boy in the wheelchair shouted at him.

"Yeah!" rang in the little girl who had been helping to pushing the boy, "Me and Jimmy are little. We need extra help."

He knew they must look funny, he and Gus and a bunch of kids. At least half of the kids were pulling around IV poles, like he was, bald and in pjs but the others were older and younger brothers and sisters. Shawn couldn't help but smile. They were so cute. So adorable. And so impressionablely ready for him and Gus to fill their minds with the best possible pranks ever established in the history of forever.

"What is going on here!" A shrill voice rang down the hall.

Fear shot through the group as they all spun in the same direction to see a nurse coming their way. The kids wasted no time and scattered into their respective rooms or down towards the other way of the hall, the younger ones straggling a little bit on the slick linoleum floor. Shawn watched them go; the few of them whose rooms were the closest stuck their heads back out to see what would happen.

Shawn would have ran, if he could, but there was no way he could have gotten away. They knew him in the pediatric oncology ward since he was the only adult to visit the kids, mostly so that he could do stuff. It was so boring in the adult's oncology ward.

He sighed but smiled gamely at the nurse heading his way, "Jenny."

"Shawn." The nurse replied tersely. "Gus."

"Jenny." Gus said back with a nod.

Jenny took in the wheelchair that stood next to Shawn and the scattered remains of a broken toy that had somehow managed to get dropped during the race.

Jenny gave them a smoldering look as if she were on the verge saying something she knew she was going to regret, "Who won this time?"

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AN: Read and review! Please?


	5. Stop and Stare

AN: Oh it's been such a long while. I think I have about two or three shots left, hopefully they capture the emotions.

Inspired by "Stop and Stare" by One Republic

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"_How do you do it?" _

He can see the question in their eyes; hear it on the tip of their lips, but no one ever straight out asks. He'd be damned curious if the roles were reversed. But he supposed that some people just had a bit more tact than he did. He wonders how the little ones can do it, he hears them cry about shots and he sees them throw tantrums about not being able to go outside. Such simple things. But really it's the simple things that get him through the day.

He knows it sounds corny and completely sentimental, but he can't help but think that. It was the way his mom always left pieces of gum everywhere. The way Gus and he would banter about the doctor's hair. The way his dad always took the remote control, even if he didn't want to change the channel. The gum always helped him get the taste of medicine out. The jokes kicked him out of his thoughts. The lack of the remote always made him feel like his dad didn't care what he thought. All in all, it made him feel normal.

"_How do you do it?" _

He walked outside the other day. When his mom had been called out of town and his dad had gone to the supermarket while Gus was at work. No one there in that big, empty house. It made him feel so forgotten. He knew that wasn't true though, he knew that they were constantly thinking about him, but they weren't thinking of him on the same terms anymore and he missed those thoughts. And it made him feel like they had separated him from their public lives. So he walked outside to see if he could get some normality back.

He strolled around the block. He kicked some pinecones which had been in his way. Watched a dog almost bite off the mailman's hand. Kids running through sprinklers. The flight path of a small flock of crows. Noticed the leaves in a tree and how the little parts make the whole.

It was all very…peaceful. Very normal.

"_How do you do it?" _

He supposes in way, he doesn't do it all. Strange really, how can you do something without actually doing it? It didn't make sense but it was the only way he could put it.

How does anyone expect to face anything so piss-in-your-pants terrifying and easily conquer such an obstacle? How can he do this? How can he stand up to death and just say no, that he wasn't afraid that he might not make it through the fight? Just made no sense whatsoever.

He's striving for normality but he doesn't think it can be done. But he stabs at it anyway, blindly reaching for something that may be gone. He doesn't care though.

"_How do you do it?" _

The question is in the way they fumble when they talk to him. The way they stare and look away quickly.

The best he can do is shrug.


End file.
